


Place is different, refrain is the same

by WaltzQueen



Category: Book of Life (2014), Corpse Bride (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltzQueen/pseuds/WaltzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manolo visits a different afterlife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Place is different, refrain is the same

**Author's Note:**

> novillero is a beginner bullfighter  
> spanish lyrics are Si Perdonas Perdonar form El Libro de la Vida

Manolo Sanchez had one terrible day a long time ago that left him as a skeleton in the Land of the Remembered as a young man. He had awoken from death to find a beautiful world stretched out before him in a string of endless floats and parades or all colors and sizes. The decorative skulls on his Novillero uniform shone brightly in the glow of candles and happiness that day as he searched for his love, Maria, amidst the dead and instead found a scoundrel that had stolen the throne of the land's ruler. 

Eventually he did return to the life that was rightfully owed to him and the love of his life. He lived and died and was very happy about all of it. He was even surprised to have Catrina Calaveras,La Muerte and the ruler of the land of the remembered herself, welcome him back when he kicked the bucket for good. Maria, good and still sweet as ever, and Joaquin, still brave and kind, were still alive in San Angel but aside from his desire to be with her always everything was perfect. As for Maria and Joaquin? He could wait a few years. 

In the mean time, Manolo was enjoying himself exploring. The Land of the Remembered was a lot like the world of the living. The homes were cozy and the markets busy, despite how no one lacked anything. One of the big differences was that the Land of the Remembered went on and on forever if you weren't trying to get someplace specific. Manolo could wander for as long as he liked and still not see it all. Some places were covered in trees and others were under the water or in the air. It brought Manolo such joy to see so many people enjoying their deaths, so he wandered ever further which is how he ended up here.

The ground hung high overhead, as though a great group of ants had dug this place out of the Earth itself. This place was less colorful than some places, but still lively, for a given definition of the word. The residents still went about their business as they always seem to, with gladness and peace. While some of the skeletal dead around here simply forewent clothes, many did not. Despite being a clothed skeleton he still stuck out greatly, like a lone rose on a desert road. 

The decorations on his face and carved into him were quite the contrast to the more solemn dead with their deep jewel tones and stiff clothes. Many of them still bore markings from their deaths in some way. It was almost embarrassing how many people he could look at and know how they died without asking. He was of the opinion that people could do with a tad more privacy, but it wasn't his afterlife so he'd leave it alone.

Manolo had barely set foot in the bar before a portly woman threw her hands in the air and rushed over to a bell. She rang it loudly and proclaimed "Visitor! We have a Visitor!" All manner of dead came rushing forth to meet him. Like a gleeful wave, they swamped him and ushered him over to the cracked wood of the bar. 

"My name is Paul. I am the Head Waiter! What can we offer our honored guest today, sir?" asked a head, scuttling around on cockroach legs. Paul tilted towards the crooked shelves filled with vials and bottles in every color. The rainbow of shapes and colors had Manolo delighted to see that somethings stayed the same no matter how far he traveled. "We have every potion and poison known to the dead," He boasted. "What is in your favor?"

"?Teines un chocolate a la taza?" Manolo requested, grinning broadly. The dead nearest him stopped and looked at Manolo with no little confusion. What was wrong? Why were they staring? Manolo's smile faltered as the stillness drew on. Maybe they didn't have hot chocolate in this part of the world. Some of the people in the back began to whisper amongst themselves when it hit him.

"Lo siento, Sorry. I asked for Hot Chocolate." All together they nodded and Manolo's tension seeped out of his bones. The cockroaches scuttled too and fro, grabbing bottles and cups. It was quite a sight to see them go as they prepared his hot chocolate for him.

"Well, what have we here? It's not often we get out of towners dropping by." A hat bedecked skeleton, crooked in every way, slid into the seat beside him and grabbed a cup whizzing by on the counter from the tiny insects serving as waitstaff. HIs single eye focused on Manolo's clothes. "And what a get up, too." Pale white bone gently flicked a tiny golden skull on Manolo's arm.

"My name is Manolo Sanchez. I come from Mexico. I am waiting for my wife Maria, and my friend Joaquin to join me. In the meantime I am exploring the Afterlife in between visits home. As for the clothes,"he chuckled. "It is a long story. I was going to be a bull fighter one day, like all my family had been, but I did not want to kill the bull. I became a musician instead." He gestured to the guitar hung across his bony back.

"Ay! It's nice to meet a new musician." The crooked man crowed with delight. He slung an arm around Manolo and laughed. "I usually do the tunes for this here establishment of an afterlife, but I'm hip to hear what you have to play. You wanna play something for us, Manolo?"

"Sure thing," Manolo agreed. He grabbed his guitar and strummed it lightly. "What would you like to hear?"

"You said you used to bull fight? Let's hear something about bulls!"

"Something about bulls? I can do that" Manolo chuckled. The tiny skull pegs glinted in the green light as he tuned his guitar. He let his boney fingers fall against the strings and hummed. Soon enough he had a slow rhythm going and began to sing.

"Toro, Me da pena y te suplico perdonar  
A todos los que un dia, te vinieron a matar  
sufriste la injustica, de otros tantos como tu  
te ofresco mis disculpas, respecto y gratitud"

As he sang more and more people around him trailed off their conversations in favor of listening. His music changed the bar around him. the green tint of the bar shifted to orange as warm as daylight. Manolo could no longer smell the liquor or the moist earth around him. Hi senses were filled with the dust of a bullring and the smells of vanilla and marigolds, so often present during la Dia de los Muertos.

"Me perdonas. Toro me perdonas  
Mi verdad, esta en esta cancion  
Si, nos quisimos matar  
Te ruego que hoy me puedas escuchar"

Around him the dead shed tears of awe and could have sworn their hearts beat in their chests again.

"Si puedes perdonar, si puedes perdonar  
La paz llegara  
Si puedes perdonar, el amor vivra  
Siempre vivira"  
Manolo played on, the focus of everyone's attention. Lovers joined hands and wept, though they could not understand the words they understood all they needed to.

"Si puedes perdonar, el amor vivira  
siempre....siempre vivira..."

Manolo kept playing and no one in the house would stop him.

"Toro, I am humbled  
For tonight I understand  
Your royal blood was never meant  
to decorate this hand!

You've suffered great injustice  
So have thousands before you  
I offer an apology,  
and one long over due

I..am...sorry. Toro, I am sorry  
Hear my song, and know I sing the truth  
Although we were bred to fight  
I reach for kindness in you heart, tonight!

Oh! if you can forgive, and if you can forgive  
Love can truly live  
And if you can forgive, and if you can forgive  
Love can truly live"

No one noticed the woman in the flamboyant hat enter the bar and sit in a dark corner next to a surly man with glowing red eyes.

"Toro, I am frightened  
But I'll use my final breath  
To tell you that I'm sorry  
Let us end this dance of death!

Two centuries of agony,  
That to your heart we send  
Here, now, with my ammends  
The senseless killing ends

I am sorry. Toro, I am sorry  
Hear my song, and know I sing the truth  
Although we were bred to fight  
I reach for kindness in you heart, tonight!

Oh! if you can forgive, and if you can forgive  
Love can truly live  
And if you can forgive, and if you can forgive  
Love can truly live"

The smell of Pan de Muertos and thoughts of love filled the air. Bonejangles, the crooked skeleton had a tear in his one eye. He wiped it and took his hat off to a great musician and person.  
Once more, like the last flare of light in a sunset, Manolo's voice rose up.

"And if you can forgive, and if you can forgive!  
Love....Love will Truly Live!"

Manolo opened his eyes and lowered his guitar. All around him the somber dead erupted into applause. Manolo, who had quite forgotten he had an audience, shyly smiled and busied himself with his lukewarm hot chocolate.

"See, mi Amor. He is a good man, you should have a little faith in him to stay a good man." La Muerte smiled at her sour companion.

"Yes, he is good, but I'm not so sure about the rest of them. Humans, with their petty ways. Covering it up to look good, when they're rotten at heart." Xibalba, ruler of the Land of the Forgotten, crossed his arms like a petulant child.

"Some of them are, but humans are good at heart on the whole." They turned to watch Manolo Sanchez wave goodbye to the gathered dead in the bar as he proclaimed he had enjoyed himself and would be hanging around for a while.


End file.
